


A Winter's Day

by DarrowWyrlde



Series: Skipping Through The Multiverse [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:19:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarrowWyrlde/pseuds/DarrowWyrlde
Summary: It's cold in this dimension, and you're getting tired. You feel like the dreary grey sky above, in this ominous forest.You are aloneBut you are used to thatIt's far better that way





	A Winter's Day

**Author's Note:**

> A (very) last minute Secret Santa present! 
> 
> Enjoy!

You walk tediously through the deep snow banks of these alien woods. The banks glow with luminescent fungi, iridescent caps peeping out of the fine powder and creeping up the unsettling trees. The tall spindles of wood are covered with eyes that move at the edge of your vision, watching you. Long familiar paranoia seeps into your core, not unlike the icy chill that's soaking through even your tough survival gear. Your aging bones protest against the cold and you bitterly curse the years gone by. The long,lonely years.

For you are alone, but you are used to it at this point and dare not imagine anything else. Daydreams of companionship lead to dreadful trips down memory lane, a road haunted by the ghosts of the past. Faces of allies, friends, partners…..a brother…

No. Better to let such thoughts wither and die, along with any hope of reunion, or resurrection.

The smoky grey sky does nothing to help your sour mood. You plow on, wallowing in your hatred of life and regretting your abdication of the steaming sand dunes of Dimension #07.

Chill wind whips through the ominous creaking branches and as you turn your face away from the assaulting breeze, your warm breath fogs up your glasses.

Yet another regret, trading your goggles for food. You could have gone longer, you're sure of it.

Your stomach had faced far wickeder claws of emptiness than 5 sleeps.

At the moment the regular ache in your abdomen was slight, any thought to the emptiness repressed. Swallowing the pain was the only reason you were still alive after all.

You growl at yourself as your Rebdar-bark boot catches on a snow buried obstacle. Whether it's a outcropping of stone or a twisted root is of no relevance. You stumble, but catch yourself, falling more and more miserable each second.

As you plow on, a sound riding on the whistling wind is caught by your sharp hearing. Pausing, you listen intently. The sounds continue, shrieks that are indecipherably in fear or joy. Something about the high pitched tones stirs something within you and you vaguely remember a long useless rant.

_You see, sounds used in successful horror movies are typically at a pitch that correlates the sound of a infant crying. That’s why they’re so unnerving, it affects you on an instinctual level._

You know you should ignore it, more than one predator you’ve come across imitates a child for that exact reason, to trick it’s prey to “coming to the rescue”. But the feeling within you is strong, and urging you to run to the sound, to see if something is in need of help.  
You scowl at your conflicting instincts, before making up your mind. “It might mean civilization,” you mutter. “Might mean warmth after all.”  
So you continue in your tired stride, walking more carefully, but ever towards the mysterious cries…..

****

  
  
“No no no no!!!” Dipper squawks, before receiving a face full of snow.

Mabel cackles shamelessly. “ZING!!!” She throws yet another snowball, this time blindsiding her unfortunate brother.

“That’s it!” he yells, without any true ire. Closing the notebook he’d been scribbling in he carefully tosses it onto the porch a few feet away. The volume slides on the icy porch and bumps into the booted feet of none other than Grunkle Stan himself, who had sent Soos for popcorn for watching the ensuing snow fight.  
  
Shrieking in delight, Mabel runs about the pearly white lawn, careful not to run through the section of untouched snow she had marked out for “later beautification”. Dipper shoves his hand-knit gloves back on and hastily forms a lopsided hunk of ice, throwing it lamely at his bounding twin. It falls extremely short. “Awwww c’mon!”

“Admit it!” she hollers as another pack of snow exploded against Dipper’s chest, “You throw _worse_ than a girl!!!”

“THAT’S IT!!!” Dipper drops the lump of snow he’d been trying to work into a second attempt and charges. Squealing for joy, Mabel runs out of reach.

 

****

 

As you stumble through the unnerving woods the sounds grow louder and definite voices can be heard, if you can’t quite make out the words. A structure can be seen through the thinning trees and the slant of the rooftop fills you with dread. You’re uncertain as to the cause of this gut wrenching feeling, but it stops you in your tracks nonetheless. Your gut was usually right, when it said something was bad news it was _bad news_. But the voices up ahead and the structure itself promised the possibility of shelter and rest from the cold stiffening your bones. Curiosity always got the better of you, and you move to stalk the perimeter of the treeline.

 

****

  
Dipper and Mabel both flop to the ground, tired out from their wrestling struggle to shovel snow down each other’s coats. They laugh, exhausted but loving the moment together all the same.

After a quiet moment looking at the grey sky, Dipper turns to his sister and asks, “Want some hot chocolate?” He already knows the answer.

She bolts upright, “ARE FLAMINGOS PINK?”  
“...actually-”

“Of course they are!” she laughs, elbowing her nerd bro-bro fondly.

A long dark shadow settled over them.

 

****

You watched the incredibly humanoid children for a time, hiding amongst the thick and bare bracken that bordered the building’s lawn. Now though, your attention is elsewhere. You have realized _why_ the “Mystery Shack’s” architecture unnerved you so. You knew this building, although it never looked like this. Like….some sort of goofy knickknack house!

Your eyes search the house for every deviation from your foggy memories of the cabin...your cabin that is. It is now clear you’re on a parallel Earth of sorts. But to land here, of all places on the planet….

There’s a loud cry of distress from the children. Your instincts flare up as you see a shadowy figure standing above them, and for some reason you leap to your feet, ready to rush to the unknown kids’ rescue.

But then there’s the words...and your very core is frozen.

 

****

  
  
“GRUNKLE STAN!!!” Mabel shouts, shaking her head to loose the shovelful of snow just dumped on her head by her mischievous uncle before _tackling him_.

Stan falls on his rump with an ‘OOF’, rolling with laughter as Mabel throws cold white powder on his face.

“StaaAan,” Dipper’s voice cracks, the kid standing up to grab armfuls of snow of his own.

Giggles, cackles, and barks of booming laughter fill the air as it quickly becomes a playful fight to try to bury Stan in the snow.

The snow is cold and wet, but no one minds as of yet.

 

****

 

You’re cold and wet, inside and out. You stare at the tussling family in shock. At the man who isn’t putting much effort into warding off the small colorful bundles.

_STAN_

_GRUNKLE STAN_ _  
_

_STAN_ _  
_

You didn’t realize you had stopped breathing until you’re gulping for air. That...was Stan. This dimension’s Stan. The fact that he was here confirmed that this was an alternate universe than your home, extinguishing the faint flame of hope that had flickered at the triangular wooden cabin. But….what did that entail? Did that terrible fight end differently in this dimension? What was _he_ doing here, in Gravity Falls? Who-

Your heart skips a beat.

_Whose kids are these?_

Your eyes whip about, searching for anyone else in the vicinity.

A large man, young your failing eyes believe, steps out onto the porch with a bowl of…

You blink

_Is that popcorn?_

You had forgotten about popcorn. How could you forget about popcorn?

Seeing the tussle a few yards away, the newcomer leaves the bowl of possibly popped corn kernels on the frostbitten sofa and walks over.

“Soos!” barks the other Stan when he sees the….Zeus? “Stop these gremlins!”

“Soos! Help us!” rivals one of the children.

Soos bends down, grabs an armful of snow, and dumps it right on the other Stan’s head.

“SOOS!”

“I’m sorry Mr. Pines, but they told me to!”

Everyone is laughing.

You watch…..alone.

****

Ford’s sitting at the kitchen table, watching a series of MyVidTube videos that Mabel had “assigned” him. Despite his initial disinterest, he was finding the lessons on the world of “Modern Art” quite interesting. It rivaled some of his own teachings, and he found himself happily disputing the presented concepts aloud, not caring that no one could actually counter him.

As an advertisement libeling an Oregon political figure interrupts, his ears catch the sound of raucous laughter outside. Standing and walking to the wall, he looks out the window to see his family flinging snow at each other like children.

“They _are_ children,” he chuckles. A mischievous glint appears in his eye, “And so am I…”  
  
****

You watch. You can’t help watching. Your heart is torn and broken and you want nothing else than to find out what this world is like but you can’t….so you watch. You don’t care you could be spotted where you stand anymore. It doesn’t matter.

Your insides are cold and warm and you can feel wetness freezing on your cheeks. Your chest heaves, but you remain silent….and cold.

Movement catches your eye and you spot a man standing upon the roof, a large and barreled weapon in his hands.

Your breath hitches, for even at this distance you _know_ who that is. You know that silhouette. That jaw, that hair, those glasses. Your heart is broken and the pieces have been long barbequed and devoured.

Agony you had buried reaches out of it’s grave and you can barely swallow the thick sobs that it radiates, rocking your core.

You watch as the man flips on the device, air blowing from the open end and spraying the group below with the snow edging the roof.

Their cries of shock are too much.

“Whoa!”

“What?!”

“Grunkle Fo-”

They’re there. Both of them….

“FORD!!!!”

Both of you.

You do not belong here.

You scowl and scrub at your cheeks, turning away from the happy yet soul tearing scene to stalk back into the woods.

Laughter echoes about the clearing, the woods, your mind.

You shut it out, focusing on how the cold aggravates the chaffing of your prosthetic. You nearly _run_ back through the uncaring trees, covered in their glowing mushrooms.

A small creature, wearing a red cap bolts through the bushes ahead of you but you give it no mind. Your head is full of your need to leave. To recharge the tear locator, to leave this wretched dimension.

“C’mon Stan,” you say to yourself. “Let’s get somewhere warm.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ta da!!!
> 
> I didn't tag ReversePortal!Stan cuz I didn't want to ruin the suprise!!!
> 
> ...if that was a surprise that is. I've never tried writing anything like this before so....*shrug* 
> 
> Also, Dimension #07 is a number/symbol version of Dimension HOT. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment if you can saying what you liked, or didn't like. These fics are writing practice for me, so please leave some polite criticism if you have any! 
> 
> I love y'all! And thanks for sticking with me. I'm looking forward to this upcoming year to finish (but it's not limited to) Conman's Charm, Never Falls, and Trio of Trees! 
> 
> Have A Happy New Year!!!


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